I started playing because Mike and Sean play. Then i realised that I hadn’t had this much fun just playing a video game since skyrim. ugh i love it so much. Sometimes i just play for like 6h and listen to music and eat candy and this is why i’m not running 5k but instead sitting in my room in a cow onesie making drunk video game let’s plays. Ughhhhh. Ugh. whatever.

it only took me like 8 tries and making him play the base decks for the shittiest chars for me to beat michael. it’s amazing i love winning things :’)

anyway. have i ever confided in you that I love pain? also I was accused of having an Adler complex or something? Idk. I thought for a moment he meant Irene Adler which just absolutely tickled me. But i think he probably meant something less flattering. idk maybe one of you knows something about psychology and can fill me in? i’m sure it had something to do with “she needs control because she feels inadequate in her personal life” or something. which is…maybe true? idk i think i like control because A) i’m usually more capable than the people around me and B) if everything gets fucked then it’s my fault and that i can deal with. when it’s other people’s fault that things get fucked i get so mad.

Uhhhh yah. so that’s the thing. Idk. I took this quiz cuz that’s totally scientific and i got “God Complex” which is another phrase that got thrown at me but which is blatantly untrue because I am definitely very fallible. So…that’s not accuretwate adrnegaoidrnegt. UGH SPELLING IS HARD.

I think i’m drunk guys.

To summarise: I like beating people, i hate incompetent people, i like hearthstone, i’m stupid over some boy, i haven’t had sex in 13 days.

The only trigger warning today is delicious, delicious soft cheese. So if that makes you uncomfortable I’m sorry – you’re missing out.

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Extreme close up of breakfast with white cat in background

I pretty much constantly crave tomato, dairy, and salt. I’m sure this reveals that I have cancer or scurvy or lupus or something, but mostly it just means I really enjoy my food. I bought a toaster oven ﻿on Friday, and I have been delighting in the discount bread store bagels that he toasts for me. Mainly because they’re an effective delivery service for cream cheese.

When I worked at the hotel, we would make southern style biscuits – like a savoury scone – and put cream cheese and salt on them. It’s pretty much the best thing ever. I salted my cheese today for the first time at home and let me tell you: it was the right decision.

The cat, in the ten minutes it took me to eat my ridiculously satisfying breakfast and write this post, has not moved. She’s glaring with disdain at her sister and I think reflecting on how much her mother doesn’t love her. If I loved her, I would’ve shared my cream cheese, she says.

I had so hoped that I’d be writing a victory post about how I bought a kickin Ford Focus today. But I’m not writing that post. I’m still without a car because there was a problem with the engine mount but the guy selling the car still wanted over the blue book value which is just silly if you ask me.

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I was so ready to have a car. So. Ready. But instead I spent the last hour looking at different Craig’s List ads and generally feeling miserable about how close I was to a car. Maybe the guy will change his mind and decide that 3600 is too much for a car that needs engine and brake work, and he’ll text me and be like “yah plz buy it??” And I’ll be happy.

Until then, I’m still stuck in Denton on a bike in the cold. Completely separated from everything I want. Ugh.

You know that sentimental ad campaign from a few years ago that promised “It gets better” constantly? That’s true. But it also gets worse.

I’m not saying I’m an expert on piercings, but I do have several. There are 6 more you can’t even see in this picture

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Let’s talk about depression through the metaphor of body mod. It’ll be fun!

When you get a piercing, if you go somewhere reputable, someone sticks a several-inch-long hollow needle through your body, then pushes that needle slowly through your skin and fat and maybe muscle or cartilage, then jams a chunk of metal through that new, bleeding wound. It’s not the most pleasant experience in the world. Depression and suicidal thoughts are like that. They hurt, you bleed emotionally, you feel tender and swollen and vulnerable after an episode, and you expect them to get better and less intense with time – in exactly the same way you expect a new piercing to eventually stop feeling so raw.

So you carry around this injured part of you and warn people not to touch it because you’re still fragile there, and you avoid thinking about it too much, and if you’re responsible you clean it carefully and frequently to promote healthy growth. And it gets better. It hurts less.

Then you run your ear into a counter, or you brave some antihistamines at their recommended dose, and suddenly it gets worse. Maybe you’re bleeding again because you ripped at the delicate edges of the holes or maybe you’re doing breathing exercises that only make the panic worse because they remind you of that one time when it felt like you couldn’t breathe and never would again. Whatever. It hurts again and it’s disheartening because it’s been months, or years, and godsdammit you should be able to sleep on your ear by now.

And maybe you develop scars. In piercings they’re called keloids, in mental health let’s call them triggers. They’re shitty and it takes like year of concentrated daily effort to get rid of keloids. No idea how long it takes for their mental equivalent, but probably longer. It’s just awful all around.

But it heals eventually. Assuming you work your butt off to care for your LITERAL AND ACTUAL WOUNDS, physical or mental, they’ll heal. But you’re gonna relapse and you’re gonna experience pain you don’t want to and you’re gonna have to work hard for it. But that’s okay. As long as you’re trending upward, it’s okay to occasionally dip. Besides, you’re good at working hard.

So you remember when I tried to kil myself a couple of years ago? Remember how I took a bunch of Benadryl and some other stuff and then hospital and crisis centre and therapy and crying for months?

Yah. That. I’m better now, not 100% – I still have days. But I’m definitely like 87%. A firm 87 – not a wobbly one.

Here’s the thing. I have awful allergies and I took some Benadryl – just two nothing crazy – for them like 30m ago. And now I’m starting to fall asleep from the pills. The sedatives in them are taking effect, and it feels exactly like dying did and I’m freaking the fuck out and no one is awake to talk to me and I am panicking a little. A lot.

There’s a crisis plan though:

Step 1) breathe it out
Step 2) reach out to people
Step 3) write about it
Step 4) call family
Step 5) go to someone or get someone to come to you
Step 6) call a crisis line
Step 7) idek go to a hospital? If ur here then things are really bad.

And you just do the things on the list in order until you feel better. We’re on step three right now and I really want to fall asleep but I am legitimately uncomfortable with and frightened by what I’m feeling right now. I don’t like to be sedated. At least not with diphenhydramine :(